The Smile in his Smirk
by ananaroxyjubdub
Summary: It all started when Narcissa Malfoy started to nag for a mud-blood. After all, most dominant pure-blood families owned at least one mud-blood, now that Harry Potter was dead. Draco Malfoy immediately thinks of a certain bushy haired, brunette, know-it-all: the perfect mud-blood to slave over him.
1. To Want

**Author's Note: Hi guys! This is the first of many Dramione fanfics! It takes place after the seventh book, 'nuff said. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, but I sure wish I did... :3**

"Bella," Narcissa Malfoy begins. "Have you heard about everyone getting mudbloods these days?"

The two sisters are lounging on eloquent chairs in Malfoy Manor, talking over pastries and tea.

Bellatrix Lestrange twirls a strand of her midnight, black hair around a finger. "Of course, I've had ten of them already. The first nine of them didn't last." She takes a crumpet from a house elves and kicks it away. "They're much more fun to torture than mangy house elves. Much more..._satisfying _to hurt._" _

Narcissa Malfoy gapes at her sister, a cup of tea halfway to her lips. "Where can I get one? Why didn't you tell me of this?!"

"Really, Cissy, the Mudblood Trade been going on for _weeks; _everyone's getting one. You can get them from the Snatchers-they've been capturing them ever since the Potter boy died- but there's probably not enough left for you."

"_No!_" Narcissa cries in outrage. "I must have one!" She can't bear to imagine herself, a member of one of the most respected pure-blood families, not having a mudblood. She glares at one of her house elves, who's eyes widen in fear.

"Why haven't _I _got a mudblood?!" Narcissa says to herself. "All I have are these mangy _house elves!"_

Her house elf trembles and lifts a tray of éclairs, offering one to her.

"Scat, you nasty thing!" Narcissa hisses.

The house elf lowers his head and runs off, mumbling an apology.

Bellatrix watches with interest as her sister wildly looks around, a crease of worry in her forehead.

"_Lucius?" _Narcissa Malfoy calls in a shrill voice. _"Lucius!"_

Her husband rushes down the marble steps of his manor, his long cloak billowing around his feet.

"What's the matter?" He asks sharply.

Narcissa jumps up from her eloquent dining chair. "Lucius! We need a mudblood! Everyone has one of them: the Notts, the Lestrange-" Bellatrix look up from eating her crumpet. "-the Carrows, why don't we have one?!"

"We have more than enough house elves already," her husband replies crisply.

"It's not the same!" Narcissa screams in fury. "Get me a mudblood at _once!"_

"Most all the mudbloods are either dead or are already serving a pureblood family." Bellatrix interrupts. "You've been missing out, Cissy, it's so much fun to torture them..."

Narcissa and Lucius continue to bicker loudly. They don't even notice their son, Draco, walk into the room. He watches as his mother, now practically in tears, screams at his disheveled father.

As he walks into the kitchen and helps himself to an apple, he hears snatches of their quarrel. _Mudblood...want...now...or...kill myself..._

Draco leans against a majestic pillar in the kitchen, and bites into his apple. He has heard all about the Muggle Trade, it's a whole new hype going on these days. He honestly hadn't thought over the situation too much, what with all the tasks he's been given these days from the Dark Lord. But if he did have a mudblood to boss around...

A slow smile starts to spread in his lips as he begins to think of a certain bushy haired, brunette, know-it-all: Hermione Granger.

Granger was on the charts for most wanted mudbloods, along with that Weasel boy. Blood traitors were considered to be as low as mudbloods now... The two of them have been able to avoid the Snatchers for a while, but that's probably because the Snatchers are capturing the easy ones first...

His smile changes to a smirk as he imagines making Granger's life miserable and making her serve him.

He steps out of the kitchen and into the room where his parents are still bickering.

"Don't worry, mother." His parents turn to stare at him. "I'll get you a mudblood."

Narcissa Malfoy stares at his precious son dotingly. "Oh, I knew my Draco would care for his mother, unlike his useless _father." _She glares daggers at Lucius, who sniffs contemptuously and turns away. He turns back to Draco, the simpering look back in her eyes. "But how will you find a mudblood, Draco dear? They're barely any left."

"Don't worry," Draco begins to climb back up the stairs to his bedroom. "I'll find one."

He strolls into his room, closing the door behind him, and grabs a piece of parchment paper along with a quill. On it, he writes:

_**Fenrir Greyback,**_

_**Find Hermione Granger: muggle-born mudblood, friend of Harry Potter. 100 galleon reward.**_

_**Draco Malfoy**_

He rolls the piece of parchment paper up and ties it to his Eagle Owl leg. He watches as the bird spreads its wings and soars away, watching it until it's a mere speck in the sky.

* * *

"Hermione, wake up!" Ron whispers urgently.

The brunette snaps her eyes open and jumps out of bed. Just by looking at Ron's scared, pale face, she knows what's happening. There were found.

Hermione slips her feet into her shoes, reaching for her wand as she throws an arm into the sleeve of her overcoat.

_How did they find us?_

Ron swiftly packs up their remaining clothes and stuffs them into a backpack. Outside the makeshift tent, they could hear the loud, gruff shouts of Snatchers.

"Ron!" Hermione whispers fiercely, an edge of panic clouding her eyes. "The invisibility cloak! Where is it?!"

Ron stumbles towards a cluttered desk in the makeshift tent, fumbling through the piles of parchment paper with his sweating, clammy hands, knocking over a pot of ink in the process.

A corner of shimmery black catches Hermione's eye and she nudges the taller boy aside, swiping the cloak out from underneath the piles of parchment paper.

She clutches her small purse, which she enchanted to make it hold more items, and swishes the cloak around herself and Ron.

Without even looking, she could tell that Ron's ankles were showing from underneath the cloak.

_How did they find us?_

Hermione grips her wand in her trembling hand, and pulls apart the folds of the makeshift tent to allow the musty, forest scent to swim into her senses.

_I did the invisibility charm, the silencio charm, the-_

"They're here!" A throaty, male voice shouts over the many other voices. "I can smell the girl's perfume!"

A shiver runs down her spine as Hermione recognizes the voice. It's Fenrir Greyback, the werewolf Deatheater. Of course. He could smell out their presence...

She runs with Ron across the uneven forest floor, getting as far away as possible from the Snatchers. Already, they had managed to reverse the invisibility spell on the tent and were tearing it down, rummaging through the things she and Ron had left behind, looking for them.

"Ron." Hermione says weakly, her voice cracking. They had been running nonstop, stumbling over protruding forest-ground tree roots and brushing past prickling shrubs. Their breathing was fast and shallow. They couldn't hear the voices of the Snatchers anymore, but Hermione felt like they could be heard from miles away.

Ron stops running immediately, staring at Hermione with worry in his eyes. "Are you okay?" He says hoarsely, gasping for breath.

Hermione gropes around the inside of the cloak until she finds Ron's hand, and slips her hand into it. Both of their fingers are numb with cold from the freezing night air.

Hermione didn't feel like herself anymore. She didn't feel like the brightest witch in her year who could easily accomplish any feat with a flick of her wand. She didn't feel like one of the members of the Golden Trio-her, Ron, and Harry. Heck, Harry was _dead._

Now, Hermione felt small and vulnerable. She can't even imagine what life would be like if Ron weren't with her, especially with Harry dead...she was scared.

"I'm fine," she answers without hesitation. The last thing she wanted was for Ron to worry about her at a time like this. She didn't want him doing anything rash or stupid for her sake. She knew him to do that kind of thing.

"Hermione."

Alarmed by the sudden seriousness in his voice, the Hermione looks up at the taller boy towering over her.

"I'll hold them off. You have to run."

"We need to apparate." Hermione says distractedly.

"Listen to me!" Ron says fiercely, clutching her shoulder.

Hermione gasps from the ferocity in his voice. The silence is only disturbed by their raspy breathing.

"I would never forgive myself if I wasn't able to save you. You need to promise me that you'll get away, no matter what."

"Ron, I would never-"

"Promise me!"

"We need to apparate-"

"_Promise__!_"

"Okay! I promise!"

The troubled look in Ron's eyes immediately fades away.

"Ron..." Hermione fights to catch her breath. "We have to apparate to-"

Hermione gasps in shock as the thin, silky material of the invisibility cloak is pulled off her shoulders and falls into a heap onto the forest ground. She and Ron whip around to see four Deatheaters with their wands pointed straight at them.

Hermione feels Ron pull out his wand beside her and does so herself.

"Drop the wands." One of the Deatheaters says with a sneer in his voice.

Hermione looks up to see Ron staring rigidly at the Deatheaters in front of him, his hand squeezing his wand.

The Deatheaters raise their wands conspicuously. "_Drop. _The wands."

_We need to apparate._

But where to? Everywhere was impending danger. Snatchers were _everywhere._ Hermione's fingers automatically loosen and her wand falls silently to the ground. To her dismay, she sees that Ron is still clutching his wand, his face pale. She stares at his eyes, willing him to let the wand go. They were going to be killed if he didn't.

_And yet, what would they do with us otherwise?_

Hermione flinches when she feels Ron's grip on her hand get tighter. He flicks his eyes behind him, quickly but purposefully.

Hermione immediately understands him and shakes her head ever so slightly.

"This is your last, bloody warning!" The Deatheater shouts impatiently. "Drop your wand, blood traitor, or you and your filthy, mudblood friend-" Ron's jaw tightens and his gaze hardens with hatred. "-will be nothing but history!"

The Deatheater's eyes flick nervously to his companions as he gets no response from Ron. The group of murderers shift uncomfortably.

"Three!" The Deatheater shouts angrily. Ron flicks his eyes from Hermione to the empty forest behind him once more.

_I'm not going to leave him._

"Two!" The Deatheaters point their wands straight at Hermione and Ron's chests.

The Deatheater opens his mouth-

"RUN!" Ron screams.

He pushes Hermione to the side as a brilliant display of green light hits the spot her head had been moments ago.

"HERMIONE, RUN!" Ron screams again while shooting out red beams of light at the Deatheaters.

"GO!"

Hermione stumbles blindly before regaining her footing on the uneven ground and sprints as fast as she could, willing her trembling legs to function. Ron's hoarse screams and the Deatheater's death spells ring behind her.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

"_Expelliarmus!"_

_...I should be helping him._

She trips over a tree root, her skin on her hands stinging from the impact of her fall. She pulls herself up and continues to stumble along.

_But I promised..._

Tears of frustration well up in her eyes. Since when has she felt this helpless before?

A scream escapes her throat as her feet suddenly give way beneath her. With a jolt, she realizes that snake-like ropes are wounding their way around her ankles and wrists.

She lies on the ground, her face planted in the mud, struggling against the ropes viciously, but to no avail.

Cold fear grips her as a hand is placed on her shoulder and rolls her to her back. Squinting up, she could make out the glint of two eyes beneath a Deatheater's mask.

Hermione's heart stops as the Deatheater removes his mask and smirks down at her.

"Well, _well._" The blond Deatheater looks down at Hermione with his smug, signature smirk playing at his lips. "Look what we've got _here_."

**PLEASE REVIEW! Review, review, review and review. Let me know what you guys think! Any suggestions on what Draco will do to Hermione are welcome!**


	2. To Falter

**Author's Note: Hello, my dear readers. Sorry for the late update! I got a bunch of reviews asking me to update in the other story I'm working on, so I decided to work on that story. Please review though, guys. Reviews really encourage me to keep writing. Help a mediocre writer out, please?**

***insert puppy eyes here**

**Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns everything. :3 Enjoy!**

* * *

She examines the scratchy cuts on her wrists. The red marks are faint in the dim lighting in the cell. The cuts came from the spell Malfoy had put on her. Rope-like snakes had wound their away across her body, squeezing her wrist and ankles together to the point where she could barely move.

She had been on the floor in front of Malfoy. She would never forgive herself for lying there. Weak. Helpless. In front of _Malfoy. Bloody _Draco _sodding _Malfoy. Draco had stared down at her, an triumphantglint in his eye. Bile rose up Hermione's throat at the thought.

Then he had apparated her to Malfoy Manor and thrown her in this cold, slimy cell. It wasn't until then that the snake-like ropes had disappeared...

Hermione heard echoing footsteps from the stone staircase leading to her cell. It sickened her to think that the Malfoys would have a prison in their _home. _

She hears the clank of the cell door opening, and refuses to look up from the cuts on her wrists. She could practically sense the signature smirk forming on his face.

"Go away." She says scathingly. "Go away, you worthless pile of horseshi-"

A small cough interrupts her. That wasn't Malfoy's cough. That most certainly wasn't Malfoy's cough...

She looks up to see a house elf holding a large jug practically half his size. She gasps in surprise, instantly regretting lashing out at the poor house elf.

"Oh... I'm so sorry!" She chokes out.

"It's okay, miss." The elf squeaks. "I be called much worse things than that. I was told to bring water for you," he lifts up the jug he's holding and starts fiddling with the lock on the cell door.

A pang of sympathy washes over Hermione, and her heart aches for the poor elf. She couldn't even begin to imagine how horribly the Malfoys treated their house elves. Then again, if she weren't killed, she would be treated the same way...

Shaking the ominous thought away, Hermione smiles warmly at the elf as it finally unlocks the lock and steps into the cell.

Hermione knew she could just slip past the elf and out the cellar door at that moment, but the sick Malfoys would probably punish the elf for letting her escape. Heck, she doubted she could make her way out of Malfoy Manor without her wand...

Hermione takes the burden of the jug from the elf and gulps down the water, realizing just how parched her mouth was.

"Thank you." She says gratefully to the elf, smiling at him warmly. "My name is Hermione. What's yours?"

The elf stares at her, clearly stricken. "Miss wants to know my name?"

Hermione laughs and nods. "Please?"

The house elf looks at Hermione with wide eyes. "No witch or wizard has ever asked for my name."

Hermione laughs again. "I'm different."

The house elf's huge eyes sweep the room, as if he's afraid to say anything.

Then he goes on his tiptoes. "My name is Dilly," he whispers into Hermione's ear.

Dilly sighs, as if a huge burden has been lifted off his shoulders.

"That's a wonderful name, Dilly. It's nice to meet you," Hermione holds out a hand.

Dilly stares at Hermione's hand for a while before hesitantly shaking it. His large eyes glimmer from tears.

"You is a very special human, Miss," he says tearfully. "You has a very good soul."

Tears form in Hermione's own eyes. The Malfoys probably treated their house elves horribly. She couldn't even begin to imagine what Dilly and the rest of the house elves have been through. They didn't deserve this. Any of this.

She opens her mouth to say something to Dilly, when a bang of the door of the door sounds from above her. Dilly lets out a small squeak of fright, his eyes full of terror. Both of them look towards the staircase to see Draco Malfoy walking down. He looks directly at Hermione.

Hermione lifts her chin and glares back at him, refusing to look away: that would be a sign of weakness...

Draco's lips form into his signature smirk before he finally notices Dilly.

"_You! _House elf! Did I say you could talk to the girl?!"

Dilly stares up in fright at Draco towering over him. The house elf's lip trembles, but he can't seem utter a sound.

"_Answer me!" _Draco suddenly grabs the collar of the dirty pillowcase Dilly's wearing and lifts the house elf up until his feet are dangling a good five feet above the ground.

"_Let him go!" _A strangled voice shouts. To her shock, Hermione realizes that it was she who had spoken. Hermione stands onto her feet and straightens to her full height. "Let him go, you son of a bitch," she says coldly.

Draco smiles and his eyes flicker in amusement. He drops Dilly, making the house elf fall painfully to the ground. "Leave," he says shortly. Dilly whimpers and scampers to the door.

Draco advances to Hermione until he's mere inches away from her. Hermione has to strain her neck back to look him in the eye. Draco takes another step closer, making Hermione automatically step back.

He notices the confident look in her eyes start to falter and chuckles.

"You're in a prison in my house, Granger." Draco says silkily. "I could starve you to death. Torture you to death..." He runs his eyes down Hermione's body, inspecting every curve on her figure. A hungry glint lights up his eyes, making Hermione shudder inwardly as she crosses her arms over her chest. The older boy suddenly slams his hands onto the wall behind Hermione, making her cringe violently. Draco leans over and whispers into her ear, "I could do anything I want to you, and make you do anything for me..."

Anger surges through Hermione, and her eyes blaze with fury.

"You sick _bastard!" _She screams, and pushes Draco away.

Draco grabs Hermione's wrist and squeezes it tightly. Dread overwhelms Hermione as he whips out his wand.

She didn't even hear the curse he used. All she could feel was a freezing cold- seeping through her body and making her immobile. It was as if she was slowly being dipped into freezing water...

She couldn't breathe.

She fights back panic, willing herself to do anything. _Anything. _But she was unable to move a muscle.

Her lungs begin to burn and her vision turns hazy.

_Make is stop. PLEASE, make it stop._

She was going to faint. She needed to breathe.

After an eternity, the spell was finally released.

Hermione crumples to the ground, gasping loud, wheezing breathes for air. Her brown locks cover the cold sweat on her forehead.

After a while, Draco crouches down and moves the strands of hair covering her eyes with the tip of his wand.

"_Malfoy." _She croaks in a hoarse whisper. "You're not going to get away with this!"

"Oh really?" He says silkily. "Face it, Granger, you're helpless. You don't have a wand. Do you really think you can stand up to me? You're even lower than a house elf."

He crouches even lower so that's he's looking down at Hermione's trembling body.

She wasn't trembling from lack of air, although she was telling that to herself.

"It's not like Weasel's going to come and save you, either. He's dead. And good riddance for that, don't you think?"

Hermione wanted to launch herself at Malfoy. Claw his eyes out. Punch him in his stupid face. _Anything.._but she couldn't bring herself up to do anything. What Malfoy had said. About Ron...

_He's lying. He's lying. He's lying. _

"You monster," she whispers in a shuddering breath, and a tear escapes her eye.

Draco smiles in amusement at the brunette's flat response. She looks so helpless, crumpled up on the ground. Was she really breaking already?

He wipes the tear away with his hand, laughing heartlessly as she flinches at his touch.

"Don't touch me!" More tears trickle down Hermione's cheeks. To her horror, her tears turn into full out sobs. "Get away from me!" She wails tearfully.

Malfoy laughs even harder, relishing her misery.

Not even her sobs could drown out his cold, mirthless laughter.

_Ron._

Hermione covers her face with her hands and curls up tighter into a ball, willing herself to stop crying.

_Where are you?!_

* * *

**Hope you guys enjoy the story so far! PLEASE REVIEW FOR MORE FREQUENT UPDATES! Sorry, I'm a greedy, greedy pig when it comes to reviews. **


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